The Importance of Being Low-key
by MacMhuirich
Summary: Set post Avengers. After recovering his sanity at Asgard, Loki has gone back to Midgard, keeping a low profile. Somehow, he's drawn to the son he'd left in a Midgardian couple's care years ago. Will there be a long awaited reunion between father and son? How will Loki cope with his teenage son? How can he protect the boy when he becomes the target of the different realms?
1. Home of the Giants

**A/N**: My second Thor (Loki) fanfiction and this time you're in for a multi-chapter ride.

_I don't own Loki or any other characters from Marvel Comics which may make an appearance. However, Fulla, Sverre, Ase and Magni and a number of others are all mine._

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"_The fact that the man is not alone,  
that he is solitary to the entire universe  
even through vanity it means a major thing,  
it means the true meaning, of his existence,  
that of not being lonely,  
of being an entire Universe_"  
Sorin Cerin

**Chapter 1****: Home of the Giants**

_**December 1996, Jotunheimen, Norway**_

Loud screams of agony pierced the snowstorm raging over the mountainous region of Norway, followed by the softer wails of an infant.

Any human would have believed these the most impossible sounds to hear in this wilderness. No mortal would venture into Jotunheimen Nasjonalpark in the winter season; let alone parents with an infant in their care!

More screaming was heard, concurring with a forceful polar wind, and the strangest blue light shot through the dense darkness.

And then...nothing more could be heard except the howling north winds which terrorized the region.

Early next morning, a haggard looking man, snow coated, and not at all dressed for a hike in the freezing cold temperatures, strode down the last slope and made his way to the village on the northern outskirts of the Hurrungane range. In his arms, pressed against his chest, he held a small bundle.

Exhausted beyond belief, the very tall man halted in front of one of the houses and, after a moment's hesitation, knocked on the door. After the last rap, he rested his balled fist on the wood, leaning his head against it. He closed his eyes and took comfort in feeling the little bundle move against his chest.

When the door opened, he almost tumbled inside. Recovering his balance, he took in the owner of the house, a bleary eyed man, perhaps thirty odd, clad in checkered pajamas with a fleece hastily thrown over his shoulders against the chill.

"What's...!" Instantly alert, he yelled over his shoulder. "Fulla! Fulla! Quick!"

Sverre Gylfason quickly took hold of the man's arm and hustled him inside, quickly closing the door to the elements, and into the living room where it was nice and warm. He wasted no time helping the man sit down upon the sofa. It didn't matter the snow which had clung to him was melting, forming a small pool around his black leather boots.

The Norwegian held out hands and, when the stranger seemed unforthcoming, moved closer to relieve the man of his burden. Only then did the tall man react by snuggling his precious bundle yet closer against his chest. With a painful sob, he lifted his face, eyes wild and unseeing.

Meanwhile the villager's young wife had arrived, an older man in her wake, and he turned towards her with a questioning glance.

"Ase's fast asleep. Oh dear," she exclaimed, bringing both hands to her face, when her eyes met the poor man perched on the edge of the sofa, holding on to a bundle for dear life.

A man in his sixties approached warily. "Where did he come from at this time of the year? Nobody in his sane mind with no business here ventures out in Jotunheimen at this time of the year!"

"And yet, here we are, dad," Sverre chuckled, "Seems we're crazy enough to come over for Christmas."

The older man shrugged. "But then you know this place very well. You were raised here, after all."

He shuffled to the kitchen, yawning. "I'll get some hot water. You may need it. And our guest might appreciate a bowl of last night's chicken broth."

Fulla knelt before the man who was now staring forlornly down at the board floor, gently rocking and humming softly. A song. A lullaby...

The young couple's gazes instantly locked in horror when hearing this.

This couldn't be happening. Dear God in heaven! No!

Then their eyes went back to the pitiful scene in front of them.

Fulla turned her full attention back to the man. Gently laying a comforting hand on the man's trembling shoulders – they were so thin...and could be felt through the sparse, and rather unsuitable, clothing.

No reaction. The barely audible singing – he had such a soft, soothing voice - continued and the rocking never stopped.

She decided to pry open his arms and take the bundle from him but before she could lay her hands on his, the bundle had moved. She had nearly missed it, but it had definitely moved!

As if awakening from a dream, the man stopped rocking and singing and opened his arms, pulling away the top of the small blanket covering his charge to peek inside.

And Fulla, craning her neck, peered inside as well and what she saw nearly stopped her heart.

An infant, having all the appearances of a newborn but too large to be one born only last night.

She would've sworn it was blue. Whether from the cold or from lack of oxygen, she couldn't know. Three ridges adorned its forehead like some odd tattoo. She couldn't see its eyes as the infant had them tightly shut as it wriggled in its father's arms, a little arm snaking from within the comforting warmth of the blanket.

The father ran his thumb across the baby's forehead and the color changed to the more normal pink.

Seeing his wife gasp and bring her hand to her mouth as she stifled a cry, Sverre quickly went down on his own knees, putting his arms protectively around Fulla's shoulders as he stared at the man and the – probably his – baby.

The baby let out a wail. It sure had a healthy pair of lungs! It was a wonder to hear the strength of this child. It was not a sound Fulla and Sverre had expected to hear upon seeing the haggard man who'd obviously come down,alone, from the Jotunheimen snow covered and weather beaten slopes.

"Sir..." Fulla laid a hand on the man's knee.

He didn't seem to hear her, nor did he react to the human contact.

Instead, he offered his little pinkie and the infant promptly started to suck. Only then did he look up wearily and Fulla couldn't help staring in the greenest pair of eyes she'd ever beheld.

"Please let us help you. To begin with, let's get rid of those wet clothes, shall we? A hot bath will surely revive you somewhat. While you relax in the tub, we'll take good care of your little one. How does that sound?"

"Magni..." It was no more than a whisper.

"Magni...so that's your name?"

He shook his head minutely.

"Ah, your little one, then. It's a beautiful name. Now then. I'm sure Magni will be hungry. Begging your pardon, but...where is his mum? And how about telling me your name? I'm Fulla and this is my husband Sverre."

"His mother is...she...passed away..." The distraught man looked around the room for the first time, as if hoping for the miracle of seeing his beloved.

He swallowed and calmly stated: "I'm Loki, by the way."

"We're so sorry to hear this...and...pleased to meet you, Loki."

Fulla was rather curious as to how and when...Magni's mum had died. After all, the infant was...how old? One week? Two weeks tops? Was it at childbirth? The child was rather big. Best leave it be, for the time being. The question remained; what was a man alone with a babe doing in Jotunheimen with this inclement weather?

And the young man's name. Loki, he'd said it was. She knew the name. Like almost everybody in Scandinavia she had learned about the Norse Gods, the myths and legends, and Loki was one of them. The God of Discord, Chaos, Destruction... Liar, trickster, prankster... Constantly tilting the brittle balance between good and evil.

The name wasn't much in use, these days and she doubted it had ever been much in vogue. So who and why would somebody dare call their son Loki? And wasn't Loki a Jötunn? A Frost Giant? She felt suddenly chilly. The man certainly hadn't stolen his name: he'd walked in from a midwinter storm and he was...tall as a tree! She couldn't remember ever having met a man as tall as him.

She observed him with mounting interest and found him quite attractive despite his disheveled appearance. He was tall and extremely slim to the point of emaciation; alabaster complexion and high cheekbones; shoulder length and slick raven hair, now hanging loose and soaking wet because he hadn't even deemed it necessary to cover his head. His emerald eyes, which she believed would normally shine with humour or malice – as the instigator of mischief and chaos it was only to be expected to think both - now had no sparkle at all as he stared dully into nothingness.

And his clothes...

Here she gasped.

What man, these days, would wear black leather pants and a form-fitting dark burgundy leather tunic which stood open at the throat exposing a long slender neck above his collarbones? A black leather belt with a gold clasp accentuated his slender waist and his feet were clad in brown boots of the finest and lightest leather? So much leather. No wool. No protective garments to brave the harsh winter elements. He was by far too lightly dressed.

She let out a nervous chuckle that caused him to briefly look at her before returning his attention to his child again.

Of course a Jötunn, a Frost Giant, wouldn't need much in the way of clothing. She had to admit, though, he didn't look as scary as one.

_Curioser and curioser._

But first things first and Fulla once more made an attempt to carefully extricate the baby from the father's – Loki's - clasping hands. This time, he let her, following her with his eyes as she made for a corner of the room where she'd left the travel nursery bag she'd brought along. She, her husband Sverre and their baby daughter Ase had come to stay at her father's house, to spend a the week away from Oslo.

Expertly holding little Magni in the crook of her arm, she unfolded the nursery bag so she could change the baby.

The poor thing was so cold but soon she had the little boy clean and at her breast. Thank heavens she was still breastfeeding Ase! Surely, Loki wouldn't mind? After all, the baby's needs took precedence over propriety and if he objected, she could always bottle feed the child.

Meanwhile, Sverre had helped a rather passive Loki with peeling off the sodden clothes. Sverre, not a short person himself, felt rather intimidated by this man. All the while, Loki kept his eyes locked on Fulla and his son and they widened ever so slightly when he saw her bare her breast to hold Magni to it. He stared until it became rather unbecoming and he had to tear his eyes away, awkwardly casting his eyes down towards his now bare feet, twiddling his toes.

"Follow me," Sverre said, walking towards the stairs leading to the upper floor where the bathroom was.

After one more look at Fulla and his baby son, Loki followed the other man out of the room.

In the bathroom, he stood demurely by as Sverre fetched him some towels and a wash cloth, explained about the shower – apologizing profusely it had had its best days and was in need of being replaced.

"I know Fulla mentioned a bath, but you'd have to wait ages to run it. Besides, I don't want you to nod off and drown. Not here in our house. Give us a call if you need something. I'm heading back down to make up the couch for you to sleep on, if that's all right."

Loki mutely nodded. Of course he knew what these gentle mortals offered him was not up to Asgardian standards, but at least he recognised and genuinely appreciated their effort and hospitality.

Sverre softly closed the door, leaving his guest some privacy.

Loki moved towards the mirror and stared at his own reflection and experienced a small shock for a stranger's face was staring back at him. A haggard, wan and almost grey face with sunken eyes surrounded by dark shadows that regarded him rather dully. His lips were a thin bitter line that seemed to cut his face in two.

He heaved a heavy sigh.

There was no life in that face.

Of course not. Part of him had died along with his love.

A tear found its way out of the corner of his eye and trickled down his cheek.

He angrily brushed it away with the back of his hand.

_Enough! _

He rammed both fists into the offensive mirror and stepped back, clutching at his head with his hands, fingers pulling at his hair as he let out a primal scream unlocking his pent-up grief.

Closing his eyes, he stumbled backwards until he hit the wall, slumping down against it, losing every ounce of control he'd been left as he poured out wave upon wave of his soul's raw energy. His body was wracked with continuous sobs. He hadn't felt so weak in over a thousand years. He also knew as no other the danger he was in if he let himself be ruled by his emotions. It had been detrimental to his mind...his mental health and his status at Asgard.

The sudden rapping on the door brutally roused him from his misery.

"Loki? Are you all right? Are you hurt? Loki!"

He rubbed his face and scraped his throat before replying.

"I'm fine. Sorry."

Blushing with embarrassment at his loss of control, he deftly waved his hand thus fixing the mirror with his unerring magic.

Loki sighed and gave his reflection one last disconsolate look. It was time to get a hold on himself again.

For his son.

For Magni.

* * *

Just this wee note to say I'm always eager to learn if what I write is passable and, if not, what should be improved. BTW, I deliberately chose the British spelling for this fandom. I trust you have a fair idea why. Hehe.

As for reviews (the good, the bad and the ugly) my routine is responding to them personally via PM, rather than making a shout-out at the start of each chapter. ;)


	2. Shakespeare in the Park

In reply to one of the reviews, my naming the baby Magni doesn't mean the boy is the result of some Thorki. Not in this story. Moreover, I don't write slash. Now, about his mother... All will be revealed in due time. :)

Of course, I can see why Thor was suspected. When I was looking for a suitable name, I happened upon the one I eventually went for: Magni. Only later did I learn about Thor (in the myths) having a son named Magni. Trust me, this was pure coincidence. However, I chose to leave it be.

Anyway, here's the next chapter. I hope you'll all enjoy it.

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**Chapter 2: Shakespeare in the Park**

_**December 2012, New York**_

"Catch this!" The tall youngster yelled cheerily at his companions as he let go of a snowball.

When he saw his projectile hit its target, he punched the air with a raucously victorious shout. "Bull's eye!"

Laughing, the lanky raven haired youth let himself go down on his side in the snow covering the largest of the glacier rocks in Central Park. He slid, at the same time stretching his hand out to scoop some snow for a new ball. Coming to a halt, he half raised himself to his knees and unerringly aimed a ball for the another boy, hitting him square on his face. Calmly collecting more snow, he once more patted the mass until it had the right form, ducking as a snowball sailed his way, narrowly missing his head.

"You definitely need some more target practice, Malfroid!" Magni yelled out gleefully as he tossed his ball again without missing.

Standing up to his full height on top of the Umpire Rock, he uttered a battle cry and shook his fists in the air.

"Keeeeeyyaaaaahhhhh! I'm the King of the Nooooooorrrrth!"

His friends stopped the snowball battle and cheered the self-proclaimed King of the North. They knew him well enough to enjoy his penchant for drama. He loved the Classics...and Game of Thrones.

He loped and then leapt down the stony remnant of a bygone ice age so sure-footed they all believed he could actually fly if he chose to do so. Such ease and grace never went unnoticed and his friends both hated and loved him for his natural panache.

When one of the boys missed his footing on an icy patch, Magni was quick to thrust out a hand and steady the other.

"Watch your footing, Colin."

Jeremy was not amused. He'd been on the receiving end of his choir mate's pranks since the St. George's Boys' Choir left England on this educational trip to New York. Right now, he seemed to be a most unwilling target for every snowball that came sailing through the air.

However, Jeremy realized only too well he'd deserved it. One just didn't mess with Magni Lokason. It had seemed such a good idea, at the time, to embarrass his choir mate by handing him the wrong vocal scores sheet. It was the right piece alright. However, Mr Partridge, the choir conductor, had made some changes and the sheets which Magni Lokason held for the general Christmas carols rehearsal turned out to be the original scores. So, when that part came when the descants were supposed to sing, an extra voice stood out, enthusiastically singing completely different notes and a little off-key as realisation struck.

Magni was one of the seniors of St. George's Boys' Choir and, since his highly pitched childhood treble had already broken, his voice still was of such a quality that he was permitted to stay on as one of the supportive tenors.

Nobody had ever seen Lokason as angered as he was that day. He was livid and although he'd laughed it away in seemingly good humour, he swore to himself there'd be pay-back where it concerned this arrogant toff, Jeremy Malfroid.

The snowball game was fast getting out of hand and Jeremy was flagging to the point he went down on his knees in front of Lokason, begging the tall boy to please to have mercy and stop the relentless onslaught of frozen projectiles.

The boys had ended up standing beneath the Umpire Rock.

"Look, Jeremy..."

Whatever Magni was going to say was cut off by a small avalanche of snow tumbling down from the rock, almost burying Jeremy. In all probability, someone above had inadvertently caused some of the snow to come loose. Gravity took care of the rest, landing a considerable amount of it on top of the unsuspecting person standing in its path.

"... Okay... What was I about to say again? Anyway, c'mon, lads, let's get him from under there lest he starts to see some snow fairies!"

Giving a little shake of the head, Magni rushed towards Jeremy and started brushing the snow off the other boy.

"Damn you, Lokason!" Malfroid blurted out and gave the tall boy a shove and with that, he walked away, back to the hotel they were staying.

Magni held up his hands in denial, though his face spoke volumes he rather enjoyed the situation.

"Wow! Don't look at me. I didn't do a thing!"

One of the other boys patted him on the shoulder. "We know, Loki. Just don't get yourself into any more mischief, would you?"

"Don't call me that, Robertson!" Magni hissed at the other boy. Since his friends had watched the Thor movie, they'd thought it a most novel idea to start calling him Loki.

As for Magni, he had done all to avoid going to that movie.

"Loawwww-keeeee! Hehehe!"

Magni rolled his eyes and turned around, staring at the mass of rock.

"I don't understand why you're so opposed to being called that, Magni. Why! Isn't it part of your surname. I'd be flattered. The guy's quite popular, you know?" Peter West laughed.

None of the boys noticed the well dressed man and his lady taking in this little scene as they were standing on the path, their stroll in the park interrupted.

"Especially since it's Tom Hiddles playing Loki. "I am Loki of Asgard and I'm burdened with glorious purpose!" I bet he is!" Peter laughed.

When no witty reply came from his friend, he went on. "Hey! I distinctly recall you acclaiming him as loud as everyone present for his impressive acting when we went to watch Cymbeline."

"I agree his portrayal of Posthumus was memorable. As was his Prince Hal and Henry V. A true Shakespearean."

"Time to head back. I think I'd fancy a swim in the pool and relax in the jacuzzi. After that, I'm ready for one of your eloquent monologues or Henry V's soliloquy among others, I'm sure. "Once more unto the breach!" Come on, Magni."

Peter had already started off.

"Magni?"

When he got no response from his friend, Peter turned around, not at all surprised when his friend was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh hell! Here we go again!" Peter muttered, giving himself a mental kick not to mention Shakespeare ever again to Magni Lokason. However, he retraced his steps back to where he'd last seen Magni.

And he wasn't disappointed: there his friend was, already atop the massive rock, his green penetrating gaze slowly traveling all around as if he were surveying the world at his feet.

_"There lies a downy feather which stirs not._  
_Did he suspire, that light and weightless down_  
_Perforce must move. My gracious lord! My father!_  
_This sleep is sound indeed, this is a sleep_  
_That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd_  
_So many English kings. Thy due from me_  
_Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,_  
_Which nature, love, and filial tenderness_  
_Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously._  
_My due from thee is this imperial crown,_  
_Which as immediate from thy place and blood,_  
_Derives itself to me."_

Magni inserted a pause for drama, his eyes shifting from staring in the distance to the people who, he suddenly noticed, had gathered below him.

Peter stared for a while, open mouthed, then snickered as a particular scene from the movie sprang to mind.

"_Kneel! I said: KNEEEEEELLLLLLL!_"

Oh, he could so very much hear his friend say that line. Pushing this ridiculous thought aside, he stood amongst the crowd, enjoying the moment, knowing how Magni liked to show off this talent of his.  
Magni went on, his carrying voice taking on a note of pride; eyes looking at a spot off in space where he imagined the King's crown was sitting on the sick old man's pillow. His hands moved as if to lift the golden, bejeweled crown from beside the King's head.

_"Lo where it sits,_  
_Which God shall guard; and put the world's whole strength_  
_Into one giant arm, it shall not force_  
_This lineal honor from me. This from thee_  
_Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me."_

Peter couldn't help but stare in rapt admiration. The stage had lost a great thespian.

"Bravo!"

A swarthy man, in his late thirties or early forties – Peter found it hard to determine the man's age – and sporting a well mustache and groomed goatee, clapped his gloved hands, applauding the young man's performance. His action was soon followed by the other bystanders.

Magni, beaming with pleasure, stooped into an exaggerated bow.

"Thank you!"

However, when Magni finally observed the odd, somewhat calculating, expression on the man's face, he was not a little puzzled. Something felt off and he wondered if he'd somehow managed to botch the part. Hadn't the man just acclaimed his performance? Why then the wariness? An underlying current of ...hostility? Magni couldn't put a finger on what it was, but it was definitely there. He had a sixth sense for those things.

With as much grace and dignity he could muster on the slippery rock surface, Magni made his way down and slowly approached the man and woman who stood alone after the spectators had walked on. His debonair bearing became more obvious with every step he took until he stood face to face with the couple. He was not going to allow himself be intimidated by the man's behaviour.

"Bit of an ego, Bambi?" The man said with a smirk.

"Bambi?" Magni asked, puzzled. "I can't quite follow, sir. Would you please elaborate?"

"I believe your name is Lokason? As in son of Loki? Didn't I catch one of your friends call you Loki a little earlier?"

"I think," Peter whispered in his friend's ear, "he saw the Thor movie; or rather The Avengers. I believe he refers to Loki's nickname, Reindeer Games... Loki's helmet...with the horns..."

"What?" Magni asked, incredulous.

He spun around to address the man again with a slight tilt of his head, his green eyes suddenly turning icy like a gletscher pool. "Ego? Me?"

Now Peter, feeling the tension, was becoming increasingly uneasy. Something was definitely going on, here. "Call no man foe, but never love a stranger."

"Your braggadocio performance was rather over the top standing...atop...Umpire Rock. Think you're above everyone else?"

Stark was gratified to see a furious blush spread over the boy's face, a testimony of his unbridled indignation. "Hmmm... A quick temper, there."

"Never mind. I believe we have a mutual acquaintance. Oh, where are my manners." He thrust out his hand, after he'd taken off his glove. "I'm Tony Stark. Not sure if I can say I'm pleased to meet you," Stark said with a fake smile.

The woman standing by involuntarily cast a nervous glance towards her companion. She couldn't help but find this situation slightly unnerving. Magni, instantly recognising her awkwardness, softened his gaze and, after a short moment of hesitation, he gave a brief lighthearted chuckle and shook the man's proffered hand, at the same time boring his gaze into Tony Stark's brown eyes.

"Magni Lokason, but you already know as you no doubt overheard my friends call me. Now, about this mutual acquaintance; you're losing me there. Who is this mysterious person?"

"I...think I'll leave it to you to find out. Maybe it'll be a surprise, maybe not."

To all but Magni, the temperature seemed suddenly to have dropped a few degrees. But then, the spell was broken as Magni with a bored air checked his watch, and turned towards his friend.

"Come, Peter. I'm ready here and we really should be going. Our friends will be wondering what takes us so long to rejoin them."

He then grinned broadly, patting his friend's shoulder.

Stark called after them. "Until we meet again, Loki's son!"

For all his outward calm appearance, he couldn't shake this unexplainable sense of foreboding, so, on the walk back to the hotel, he kept pondering about the strange man.

Who was this man, beyond the fact that his name was Tony Stark? Judging by his posh clothes and his overall demeanour, he seemed pretty loaded.

Note: The quote: "_Call no man foe, but never love a stranger_" is by Stella Benson

* * *

I realise I didn't write Stark very well and I apologise. His type of humour is sans pareil and I don't know the Avengers universe that well...yet.


	3. Trouble is Brewing

**Chapter 3: Trouble is Brewing**

Magni's sleep, that night, had been fitful for a number of reasons.

As soon as he'd scooted between the starched, cool sheets, he'd laced his hands behind his head and just lay staring at the ceiling, thinking of today's encounter with that odd and rather dominant man and his...er...mute...lady.

Mutual acquaintance. What the heck was he talking about? What possessed a perfect stranger to mention a mutual acquaintance? What mutual acquaintance?

Absentmindedly watching the shifting shadows on the ceiling, he racked his brain about the man.

Acquaintance... Connected in what way? By family? Or friends? Probably the former since the bloke pounced upon his surname...Lokason... What if it was relative to Loki?

"Oh for goodness sake; scratch that last one," Magni thought irritably, and, kicking off the covers, growled with frustration.

On further consideration, though: what was this thing about Bambi? And egos?

Peter, propped up on his elbow, resting his cheek on his hand, looked up from the detective novel he was reading.

"What?"

"Nothing," Magni muttered, a little startled for having apparently spoken aloud, and turned on his other side, away from his friend's questioning gaze.

He frowned. And what was wrong with reciting Shakespeare?

After Peter had switched off the light, Magni continued to stare into the darkness.

How would this New Yorker know anyone of Magni's family? He didn't know anyone else going by that surname. He didn't even know if his biological father was still alive! At his twelfth birthday, he'd been told by his foster parents how his father, by circumstances, had left him into their loving care. They'd treated and loved him like their own. And with their daughter Ase happening to be born around the same time, the two were raised as twins.

His real mother was presumed to have died in childbirth but they, and the other folk from the village, had decided to put up a small memorial. This gesture was probably more for his benefit. They had told him how distraught his father had been, that fateful night when he appeared on their doorstep.

Bottom line was that he was given the name Lokason, after the trickster deity Loki because he, Magni, happened to be born in Jotunheim, Home of the Giants.

All he was left by his father were a golden chained brooch and a small blanket of the finest cloth. There was also a very fine looking knife, its hilt of the smoothest hardwood and rather elaborately carved and the sharp blade of a metal he couldn't quite place. Not exactly befitting a baby, but still...all his.

Could this Stark person have known his biological parents?

He flopped on his back hoping to get some sleep but all he managed was tossing and turning for he found it was suffocatingly hot inside the room.

The heating had been turned off hours ago, but the temperature still was unbearable. He'd contemplated opening the window, but the sounds of the city that never sleeps would deprive the boys from any notion of undisturbed sleep. Oh, such contrast with his home town!

Finally, barely one hour before Peter shook him awake, his eyes fell closed and he was sound asleep.

He growled at Peter's prods and shakes, snuggling deeper between the sheets.

Peter, his voice booming and much too chipper for Magni's liking, urged him to get up pronto lest they be too late for breakfast with the rest of their classmates.

He grudgingly swung his legs over the side of the bed and pattered to the bathroom for his morning ritual. Peter had already left the room by the time he pulled on his clothes.

It was a bleary eyed Lokason who showed up at the breakfast table. And a tired Magni was an irritable Magni.

The fact they were going to spend the day visiting one museum after the other and end up at a Broadway musical, didn't help much to improve his mood.

After lunch, the class found themselves strolling through an exhibition about the Age of Vikings with its displays of ancient artifacts and weapons, medieval scripts and a short film about the Norse myths and legends which had Magni rolling his eyes throughout as he caught his friends looking askance at him whenever Odin, Thor and any of the Nine Realms were mentioned.

Peter was surprised to find his friend's interest piqued, without being distracted by his friends, at one particular item. It was funny how Lokason had his nose positively glued on the glass behind which some jewels were on display but there was this one special object...

"It's like mine... How can this be?" He muttered to himself.

"It's a clasp. It's meant to hold a cape together."

Magni spun around at this strange voice.

"Who are you?" He snapped at the other.

"It doesn't matter who I am. I was merely saying..."

"I didn't ask you anything about this object."

"Besides, it's rude to sneak upon somebody," he continued somewhat peeved that he'd been so deep into his own thoughts to have missed somebody had entered his personal space and he didn't like it one bit.

"I did not sneak up on you," the stranger placidly retorted.

"Sir, I have nothing to say to you, so I bid you a very good day," Magni said.

It was an effort to keep it civil and now he just wanted to get away as quick as possible.

What was it, these days, with perfect strangers talking to him? This was going to be the last time he visited New York. This city was leaving him quite uncomfortable.

With one more look at the clasp, he strode away. Where had his choir mates gone?

He turned a corner and saw the entrance to a dark room and thought it an excellent place to stay out of the stranger's sight.

The otherwise dark walls held softly lit displays of manuscripts, books and colourful drawings.

Magni, his attention once again drawn, stepped closer to read the Old Norse writings, not caring for the English translations beside the ancient originals.

He huffed. Great! Just jolly great! It was an excerpt of the Prose Edda, relating about Ragnarok and the evil deity Loki's role in it. Magni's eyes went to the picture beside the manuscript. It was an old one depicting the Trickster god like some...court jester!

The youngster pivoted and promptly bumped into the broad chest of...the stranger.

He was ready to explode.

"WHAT?" He hissed.

"What do you want from me?" Magni continued when the man didn't respond.

After looking Magni up and down as if he were someone despicable, the man replied.

"Oh, I want nothing from you."

"Then why are you following me?"

"I've been told to get you..."

Magni let out a derisive snort. "It's that Stark bloke, isn't it?"

"Stark Bloke?" The man shook his head in confusion. "I don't know that name. However, I've been ordered to bring you back to..."

Quick as lightning, he thrust out his hand and gripped the boy's arm in a vice. Magni's heart threatened to burst from his chest and, eyes widening in panic, he struggled to free himself.

Suddenly, there was a surge of bodies in the dark room accompanied by a cacophony of thankfully familiar voices and Magni felt the pressure on his arm instantly drop away.

"Hey, Magni! THERE you are! We've been looking for you everywhere!" One of his classmates, Robert Thornton, called out.

"Not unlike the elusive Scarlet Pimpernel, if you ask me," Peter muttered.

Magni spun around, his eyes scanning for the stranger, but he was gone.

He let out a sigh of relief but his heart still hadn't returned to its normal pace.

* * *

Well, it seems like I shouldn't waste my time writing any more Thor fics even if I like that. However, I'll continue the weekly update on this story for those few readers still having a shred of interest to read more.


	4. The Northern Lights

_**A/N: A rather long chapter, this one. Again the two POV's; Magni & Loki (reminiscing - re: Norse mythology).**_

**_BTW: I've always wanted to see the northern lights but, alas, I live in a zone where we only get to see them when it's a particularly strong solar flame. I had hopes for last night's forecast show (April 13, 2013), but, as it always happens when I get excited over such a thing...the skies were overcast._**

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Northern Lights**

That night, Magni barely touched his dinner, his mind awhirl with the strange incidents of the past two days. Just as the waiters brought in the pudding, he rose to his feet and politely excused himself from the table, eliciting curious glances from his friends.

"Loki didn't even touch his pudding!" Jeremy mumbled, looking down at the untouched dessert.

"Blimey! That's a first! And it's his favourite!" Colin added.

"This isn't like him at all..." Peter said, his eyes following his friend as he left the restaurant to God knew where.

"I think he's coming down with something. He's been behaving rather odd," Colin said, leaning over and taking Magni's untouched pudding.

"Leave that, Colin!" Peter snapped, intercepting the other boy's retreating hand holding the cup.

"He's not coming back to eat it, Peter." Colin protested.

"He may still want to eat it later, tonight. Give it to me."

"So you can eat it yourself?"

"No, I won't. Now, give it to me." Peter held out his hand.

"Oh, just hand it over, Colin," another boy, Robert, called from the adjacent table.

"I still think he's unwell. Remember the way he looked this morning? And I haven't seen him eat anything all day!"

"All the more reason Peter should keep this pudding for him in case he finds his appetite later tonight," Robert replied, glaring at Colin.

"Oh, alright, then. Just..."

"Colin. You have my word; I won't eat it. I'll make Magni eat it. He'll have to get something down at least."

Peter took the vanilla pudding and quickly followed Magni to the lift where he just saw the doors close behind his friend. As he stood there, waiting for it, he watched the indicator and noticed the car went on and on...to the last floor! The roof?

Blimey! NO!

As soon as he stepped on board the returned lift, he willed it to go faster and when it finally halted, he was out the doors before they were fully open and ran up the stairs to the roof, bursting through the door and into the crisp air of a December night.

He breathed a sigh of relief at finding his friend sitting cross-legged watching the bright lights of the city.

At the approaching footsteps, Magni turned his head, green eyes wild with apprehension which quickly faded to relief when he saw who it was before turning back the way he was staring.

"Magni..."

"Why did you follow me, Peter?" Magni's voice was soft.

"You had us worried, you know?" Peter shivered. A T-shirt and a light jumper were not enough to fend off the chilly air.

"Why. There's no reason."

"I brought you some vanilla pudding..."

There was a soft chuckle. "Pudding..." Magni whispered, but then he shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

"You should eat something. Are you feeling unwell?"

"I'm fine, Peter. Don't worry." Magni gave his friend a weak smile.

"You're a poor liar, my friend."

"I'm not lying, though. I'm not ill."

"Then have a pudding," Peter said, offering the cup with a coffee spoon. "You love pudding! You'd commit murder for the stuff!"

Now that had the raven haired boy laugh outright. "Oh well. Give me the pudding, then. It would be such a waste, otherwise. Unless you would...?" He gave his friend a lopsided grin. "Okay! Okay! I take that frown for a 'no'."

He dug into the delicious dessert and even managed to push his thoughts aside to fully enjoy the sweet vanilla flavour. He finished it in no time.

"There! Empty! Am I a good boy, now?"

"Yes you are. Can we go back inside now? I'm freezing!" And to put action to his words, he wrapped his arms around his torso, then blew in his hands and finally started to flap his arms and beat them to restore some warmth.

Magni held out his empty cup and spoon which Peter took, his teeth chattering.

"You go back inside, Peter. I'll stay out here for a little while longer, I think."

He lifted his face to gaze at the starry sky up above. "It's a nice open sky, tonight. And, look there; if you watch really carefully, you can actually see some very slight coloring to the north. It's the green of an aurora borealis! I'm surprised we're able to witness it in this part of the world... Very rare, here, and with all this light pollution..."

"All very fine, Magni, but I'm going back inside and I really think you should do the same."

Peter turned to go, turning back around when his friend made no move to follow. Magni hadn't heard. He was watching the stars too fondly...and the wee bit of green from the northern lights.

-o0o-

**_Meanwhile in Iceland..._**

The tall man entered the stables with long, slow steps.

Luther Leifson was very lean and had a pale complexion which was highlighted by silky raven black hair. His chiseled face bore a determined look that brooked no nonsense. One simply didn't want to displease him. He oozed total control and definitely didn't lack confidence. When he moved, he was smooth as a cat and with such an elegance one would swear he was wearing it like a coat. His deportment was regal and charismatic, so much so that, when he walked into a room, all those present would turn and actually look at him; instantly making him the center of attention whether he liked it or not.

Some would think he was a most charming and handsome man, whereas others would sense the presence of a rather dark personality; often disturbing and threatening. With Luther Leifson, one never knew.

However they could never guess who or what he really was, nor how conscious he himself was of his bloodline for he was indeed of noble birth.

"Valgeir, I'm taking Elding for a ride. Hand me the saddle." Never breaking his stride, he spoke in a slow, clipped and deliberate tone with an English accent as if he was born and bred in Oxford.

"Yes, sir," a young man complied and shortly came hurrying after him, the requested saddle over his arm.

Luther opened the latch to one of the stables and walked in. A gorgeous dark silver dapple – or _vindótt_ – Icelandic horse of an unusual height for its breed, raised its head in anticipating alertness, its ears pricked in his owner's direction.

"Hello, my lovely. Ready for a nice ride? I know I am. I'm in dire need of some...time to myself. Away from the buzz of the city."

Elding replied with a soft nicker and tossed its long silvery mane.

Luther stroked the beautiful animal's neck, giving it a final pat before turning to Valgeir who silently handed him the gear.

"Takk, Valgeir."

In no time, the silver dapple was saddled. The man swung his legs up with such ease and grace. A contented sigh escaped his thin lips as he sat back into the saddle. Clicking his tongue, he urged Elding into an easy canter with a minute squeeze of his long legs.

Nearly outside, he called back. "You are dismissed for tonight, Valgeir. No need to wait up for me; I have no clue when I'll be back."

Then, he was out, breaking into a fast tölt typical for an Icelandic horse. "Kiiiiyyaaaaahhhh!"

He loved his horse and he loved riding out late at night.

There was a smile of pure joyous abandon on the rider's face as he and Elding sped through the night to the vast plain which spread to the north of the city.

_Freedom!_

The power of doing as he liked. No worries. No fear. No responsibilities.

Just peace with one's self. It was such a good feeling and one he hadn't felt for a long time.

His brow darkened momentarily as some unbidden memories forced their way to the surface of his thoughts.

_"I come with glad tidings! Of a world made free!"_

_"Free from what?"_

_"Freedom. Freedom is life's great lie. Once you accept that, in your heart, you will know peace."_

With a vexed shake of his head, Luther- or Loki, for that was who he really was - forced the memories back to the recesses of his mind. There was absolutely no need to dwell upon those dark thoughts from that questionable time when he was acting under the influence of the Chitauri...The Other...and Thanos.

It was a beautiful night as he knew it would be. He knew exactly when the aurora borealis would illuminate the skies above, bathing the snow covered plains and mountains in a surreal white, green or even red light. It was what he'd been waiting for. He longed for moments like this. He found peace, here, in the wilderness of ice and fire when the curtain-like fluorescent green glow played all around him, the diffuse rays spiraling as if alive. Over the years, he'd become increasingly awed by the northern lights and he'd started to wonder if this was a sign of homesickness because they reminded him of the place where he'd been raised. At first, he'd angrily cast aside this ridiculous notion which he saw as a sign of weakness.

Tonight saw a clear sky and high solar activity and he was going to have an exceptionally big show.

He so enjoyed watching this spectacle; he could stay here all night if he wanted to. In fact, that was his plan all along.

He halted and dismounted and lay down on his back in the snow, staring skyward in rapture as Elding stood nearby, scraping with his hooves to find some springs of grass to chew on.

Luther's thoughts now took him to forgotten times; the carefree days of his youth when he, Loki Laufeyarson, and his brother enjoyed each other's company, inseparable as they were.

_"Isn't it a sight, Loki? The splendour of the norðrljós?" Thor called excitedly to his brother._

_"It's a glorious sight, indeed. Listen... Do you hear it?"_

_"No. What? I don't hear anything, brother."_

_"If you cared to stay quiet and listen for a change."_

_"Oh! What is that?"_

_"It's the sound of the northern lights."_

_"Odd. How is it I never heard this before?"_

_"Perhaps...because you're always noisy?"_

_"Ah... So much better..."_

_"Thor?"_

_"Oh! For Walhalla's sake! Must you always fall asleep whenever we watch one of nature's wonders?"_

_"Yes. I know. Too boring for your restless warrior mind."_

Loki grinned at this memory. Those were the days.

The grin faded as his thoughts took him to the less than stellar times as they grew up of which two...no, three, actually...stood out: his living in the shade of his mighty brother, the botched crowning through his own undoing, and the discovery of his true parentage which was the beginning of the end. But was it the end? Was his fate sealed or could he still bend it? Would he still have the power to balance things out and turn some of the chaos he'd created back into harmony? Was it still worth trying? After all the harm he'd done? His actions couldn't be undone. That much was as sure as eggs is eggs.

Ragnarök had happened as the Völva had prophesied; all Nine Realms at war while Midgard was overwhelmed by natural disasters as fire and floods ran their destructive courses.

Yes. The proverbial runes had been cast with this Völuspá and Loki's name had been announced as the harbinger of death and destruction. His fate had been sealed, as well as that of the others.

A terrible series of unstoppable events led to the end of the world - or worlds - as they knew it and he had no power whatsoever to stop his own downfall and save the Nine Realms. He tried. He really did. To no avail.

And yet, their world had risen from the ashes like the phoenix. What's more: the immortals, called gods, had returned as well. Even Loki, his name tainted with thoughts of devilry and destruction, had been allowed to make his comeback. The God of Mischief, Destruction, Chaos, Discord…

There had been no other Völuspá after that, but he had found and read all the manuscripts describing the fyrsta spá or first prophecy. In fact, he'd been able…privileged, even…to read the original Prose Edda which was kept right here on the island at the Árni Magnísson Institute! But these works relating his involvement in bringing about Ragnarök were written long after the Great Battle that saw Óðinn, Þórr, Týr, Freyr, Heimdallr and himself, along with so many others, killed..albeit temporarily.

Still, he was forever to be known for engineering the death of so many.

He sighed and shifted with unease.

And yet…the way things had been going, lately… It scared him.

_"And mine own hatred have I even hated…"_

This was a line he'd come across when devouring books and manuscripts in the vast library of Asgard. It was a line written by a famous Mitgardian philosopher, Nietzsche.

Even though there had been no new prophecies that foretold his destiny and the destruction of the world - of any world – by his hands, he had once more brought death and destruction.

It had all started as he hung on for dear life onto Gungnir after his fight with Thor which saw the destruction of the Bifrost. And then, there had been that split second when he'd resigned to his fate, convinced he had lost the love of his...family.

Death was the only way out as there was nothing left worth living for.

By letting go of his life-line that was Gungnir, Loki had given in to his wish for death.

His whole life had been a lie. He'd been living that lie – literally a cuckoo in the nest – only to see his hopes and aspirations shattered on that day when he had accompanied Thor and his friends to Jötunheim.

How could he ever forget that day when, first, he'd seen his hand and lower arm turn blue at the touch of a Frost Giant, and later, down at the Vault, when he briefly held the Casket of Ancient Winters, which Odin had brought back from Jötunheim after his victory. There, Odin had exposed the chilling revelation that his second son was not Aesir at all. Loki was livid when he learned he was one of that race of monsters, the Jötnar.

Oh, the sheer irony of this: he'd been lied to all his life. Trust those Asgardians to brand him the God of Lies. A lie-smith.

He felt empty inside as if he'd lost his soul, and what better death was there than letting the great void claim him?

Yes. He was ready to surrender to death. He'd expected to die. How was he to know he'd end up a captive of the Chitauri, instead?

After falling away from Asgard, he'd had been literally sucked into the vortex of the lost Bifrost and through its portal into the Chitauri world.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Anyway, after the Chitauri invasion of Midgard, Thor, with the Avengers' help, had taken him back to Asgard to face justice. Of course, he hadn't been too happy about that at the time.

Yet, Loki and many others were in for quite a surprise.

At the palace Glitnir, serving as a court of justice, it had been established that he'd been most effectively brainwashed by the Chitauri following endless sessions of torture and brutal manipulation. The evidence was enough for Forseti, the god of justice, to show some leniency. Instead of a severe punishment as he'd faced in his former life, he had been escorted to a high-security unit or healing centre where he underwent some rigorous treatment by the best healers to help him regain his sanity.

As soon as he was free to go, he had announced his Asgardian family he would like to spend some indefinite time away, his choice having fallen on Midgard of all places. He was granted permission by the Council, albeit with some reluctance. Could he be trusted?

They certainly had no idea of the ulterior motive behind his wish and he thought it wise to keep them in the dark for as long as possible.

He knew the Aesir would try to keep an eye on him. Heimdalr would want to keep track of his whereabouts and report to the All Father personally.

So now, as he lay there on the cold ground of this realm of fire and ice, staring into the overarching nightsky, his thoughts went to someone he'd left 15...or was it 16?...Midgardian years ago.

_Magni. His son._

Where would he be now? What would he be doing at the moment? Would he also be watching the northern skies and revel in their colorful display?

It was his son's birthday, too.

Loki closed his eyes.

What would the boy look like, now? Would he take after his father? Would Magni be a younger version of himself? Would he be just as tall and fair skinned? Loki remembered the small tuft of black hair on his baby's head and arctic blue eyes, but those might still change as it often happened with infants. He was only certain about one thing: the spell had held or he'd have heard about it if the boy had somehow managed to shift to his Jötun form.

Somewhat agitated, he opened his eyes and sat up, staring off into space as if trying to see across the miles that separated him from his son. It pained him he couldn't use his magic to check on him. No. It would give him away, possibly them both, and all his effort to keep a low profile, concealing himself from Aesir prying eyes as well as those infernal mortals who called themselves the Avengers, would be for naught. For his protection as well as his son's he couldn't apply his sorcery to seek him out. It was best to hide Magni from the Asgardians. They wouldn't take too kindly to Loki's offspring. The boy was safe as long as he remained unaware of his bloodline. It was best if he continued his life as a mere Midgardian mortal even if he was...in reality, an Asgardian or Jötunn immortal.

Still, he longed to see Magni, curious about how he was doing. How was his relationship with his 'parents'? His foster sister? Did he have friends or was he just such as solitary in his ways like himself? Would he be loved? Truly and undeniably loved?

Would he have discovered his magical talents, yet? And if he did, how would he be using his power? With prudence and sagacity?

He had no reply to any of these questions.

Loki knew nothing at all and he felt frustrated for it.

Soon, he'd put out some cautious feelers to see his son. He had to admit he was a little apprehensive for he hadn't used magic for quite some time and he wasn't sure how he would react to it. Would it be like welcoming back an old friend or would it plunge him into exhaustion like it had happened to him before? Sometimes, kraftaverk could exhaust his energy right to bottom levels, leaving him at his most vulnerable. He didn't like that one bit. What good was he if just keeping his balance proved a nigh impossible task with his legs going to mush?

Even now, just thinking of this, sent his heart rate into the fast rhythm of a human's, his breath ragged and laboured.

After calming down somewhat, he felt confident he would find a way to see his son. This time, he felt a comforting warmth spread through his body. He would succeed.

* * *

"_And mine own hatred have I even hated, because it tainted thee_!" - Thus Spake Zarathustra by Friedrich Nietzsche


	5. Happy Birthday

_**A/N: A bit of a delay: I've suffered a wee accident cleaning a fish tank...and ended up in A&E for stitches and typing is a pain. Really...  
**_

_**Special thanks to **_**Ghost Rider of the Aragon**_ **for her support by her motivating reviews.**_

* * *

**Chapter 5****: A Happy Birthday**

Magni Lokason was stifling a yawn as he took a seat at the breakfast table, next morning, and started to butter his toast when a waitress materialised at his elbow.

"Coffee or tea?"

He looked up at the waitress.

"Coffee would be nice, thank you."

As soon as she was done pouring him some, he thanked her again and brought the cup to his lips, closing his eyes as he took in the wafts of aroma before taking his first sip.

"Did you sleep well?" Peter asked him.

"Not particularly, no." Magni replied, opening his eyes to look at his friend over the rim of his cup.

"Why not?"

"It doesn't matter, Peter."

"Well, to me it seems like it mattered enough for being unable to sleep."

"It's nothing. Really."

Peter snorted.

"I just haven't adapted to the difference in time zone. Is all." Magni muttered.

Unconvinced, Peter rolled his eyes. "Bollocks. At least you could put some more effort in coming up with a more convincing lie than that...Loki," Peter teased his friend.

Magni gave the other boy a look. "_Have a care now_." One Peter understood well enough to swiftly change the subject.

"So, how was the aurora borealis? Did you get to see something more than some green coloration of a smog and light polluted sky?"

"I agree it _wasn't_ as spectacular as the ones I've seen in the north," Magni sighed, setting his cup down and picking up his toast. "Of course I hadn't really expected much of a show at this latitude."

"Oh come on, Magni. Surely that was no aurora borealis you saw. Not in New York! Now you're just making that up." Robert said between two bites of his apple.

"Are you accusing me of lying, Robert? Ned, pass me the muesli when you're done... Thanks."

"Well... I really can't say I believe you. You just can't see the northern lights as far down south as New York. Maybe you saw something, but I doubt it was the northern lights."

"And yet, you're wrong. It actually _has_ happened before. I take it you've never heard about the Carrington Event which occurred in 1859? Oh, I admit it's a rare phenomenon, and last night's was a rather weak one in comparison but I think I have a pretty good idea what an aurora borealis looks like."

Now, Magni had the undivided attention of the others.

"Tell us about that event. Was it the same as this year's? Not that I actually ever had the luck to see the northern lights, but the news was full of that big solar flame and the promises or hopes we'd get a major aurora borealis event..." Peter said, not a little disappointed at the recollection of seeing his hopes dashed at the time.

The other choristers nodded in agreement.

"No. I didn't get to see it, either. It was too cloudy. And, no, the 1859 event happened to be the largest recorded geomagnetic storm. Actually, these particular auroras could even be seen in the Caribbean and the north of Africa! Can you imagine?"

"No way. Sorry, Lokason, but now you're exaggerating."

"Would I lie about this, Robert? What would I gain with lying over this? Really!" Magni scoffed and took a bite of his toast.

"Come on. The Caribbean for Christ's sake!"

"It's the truth. I mean, there have been countless eye witness accounts of the phenomenon. Besides, it's been scientifically proved. This super flare was mega, I tell you! It did cause quite some disruption worldwide. Google for it, if you don't believe me. I'm not making this up. Uhm... Is there any more coffee?" He asked, looking around for the waitress. "Oy! Jeremy! Pass me some butter, if you please. Thanks. Oh, and while you're at it; toss me an apple, too, will you?"

As soon as he'd caught the apple, he spirited it away for later.

"So, what are the plans for today? No more dreary museums, let us hope?" _And no creepy strangers sneaking up on him to abduct him..._

"If it were a library, you wouldn't mind."

"It's the drifting at a snail's pace from one object on to the next and stand there gawping for an interminable time which bores me. At least in a library I can find me some interesting literature and…"

"…lose yourself reading. I know, I know." Peter laughed.

"Books are comforting and a font of knowledge and wisdom," Magni condescendingly replied as he pushed his chair back to fetch some fruit juice.

He didn't notice the conspiring looks his friends exchanged. However, he knew they were up to something when he returned to the table. He could hardly miss the last of the whispered messages which had been passing between the other boys. He frowned when catching the youngest sniggering excitedly and when one boy circumspectly left the table – as if he wouldn't notice! - the furrows of his brow deepened.

"Wait a minute... Today's plans were about visiting that school just outside the city, wasn't it?" Magni remembered.

"Indeed, Lokason. We're going to spend the day at the River Valley School where we'll have a general rehearsal with the resident choir. The coach will..." the choir master checked his watch, "leave at 11:30 sharp. So you still have some time to enjoy the city but, remember...be back in time because we leave on the dot!"

As soon as the master, with a curt nod to the boys, had left, the room erupted with excited chatter.

Magni's eyes opened wide when the boy who had left earlier, had returned to stand beside him, concealing something behind his back.

All the boys went quiet as Peter rose to his feet, a wide grin lighting up his face.

"We were going to give this to you last night, but...as you prematurely left dinner...we had decided to try again tonight. However," he hastened to go on when Magni was about to interrupt, "now would seem as good a moment as any as I'm sure there would be some, here," he held up his hand at the sound of excited sniggers, "who'd be hard put to keep the secret for much longer..."

Peter nudged the lad, the youngest boy treble on their team, who blushed and passed a parcel to Magni.

Magni, holding the gift in his hands, darted questioning glances around the table seeing nothing but smiles full of anticipation and he couldn't help but suddenly feel self-conscious.

"Stop dawdling and open the damned thing, Loki!" One of the boys yelled through cupped hands from the adjacent table.

"Yeah! Yeah!" The other boys chimed in.

His thin fingers undid the lint and then fiddled with the adhesive tape. He unwrapped the parcel and just stood there, gaping at what was obviously a gift.

"A belated birthday present, Magni. We happened upon these comic books in one of the bookshops and...well... We thought...uhm...couldn't resist..." Peter shrugged.

Magni's glacier eyes snapped up from the comic book to stare at his friends and then, giving them all a look, held it up for all to see. "KID Loki? KID? Loki?"

"It's actually good, you know? We thought you might like this one. There were also...very different comics that aren't exactly flattering. That is...in which Loki is rather...well...a thorough bastard. A villain and a stark raving madman. But these Kid Loki books are actually quite nice. Besides, you like books, don't you? I've caught you reading comics before..."

"Well, yesss...but..." Magni sucked at his lower lip as he turned the book in his hands, then flipped it open. Sitting down, he leafed through it. His eyes, first lacking conviction, eventually started to glint with curiosity. When he'd attained a certain passage, he actually smiled which made his face light up.

"Magni, it would be..." Peter started, but Magni cut him off, holding up the book allowing his choir mates to see the cover.

"Lovely! Guys! I...I... Thank you!" He let out in a whoosh, glancing around at the smiling and expectant young faces.

As he was skimming through the comic book, his thoughts were about his friends finding him a gift; his friends remembering his birthday. They cared enough about him to lay out some coins to buy him a present.

He gulped and let his gaze drift back down to the book.

"Thank you, guys..." he softly repeated and chewed his lower lip again and willing his misting eyes to clear. He still needed to work on curbing his emotions.

Nobody noticed the tall man with the flowing hair the color of wheat standing near the entrance, casually leaning against the door frame whilst fixing his steel blue gaze on the young dark haired youth.

"Hope you'll like it, Magni," the young treble who had presented him his gift whispered shyly. "The drawings are really nice..." And then, the boy scampered back to his seat amongst his friends at the other table.

Magni's eyes followed the boy, wondering and then looked down at the book again. "_The drawings are really nice..._"

_Really nice_.

Those words weren't exactly the qualities one would associate with the God of Chaos. The villain destined to bring down the world or worlds... A shapeshifting giant full of evil.

What presentations he'd ever seen of Loki, they could hardly be described as...nice. The Norse deity Loki was invariably portrayed with an ugly and malicious sneer.

Magni's eyes had latched onto one picture of a boy clad in black and green wearing a small crown, a magpie perched on his shoulder.

He hated it when they called him Loki. Loki was like the devil and who wanted to be compared with the devil, anyway? And yet, he was called Lokason. Son of Loki.

Suddenly, his mind went back to an incident that happened years ago when he was about six or seven.

_"...and thus..." Aunt Elvira lowered her voice making it husky and threatening._

_The two young children sat huddled together. Ase, tried to find comfort by sucking her thumb, her other hand clutching the soft wooll_

_en blanket her brother wore around him like a cloak. Magni had wrapped his arms around his trembling body. The children's eyes were wide with the horror of the scenes they conjured up at their aunt's words._

_"...and thus..." she repeated for good measure, leaning closer to the children making them recoil with fright, "the great and awful fight begins, sealing the fate of the gods of Asgard when the eeeeeeevil Trickster Loki... "_

_"Enough, Elvira!" Fulla's angry voice broke off the tale of doom and death. "What possesses you? You're frightening them!"_

_She was furious and with reason. She'd been working late at the Embassy and, instead of coming home to her laughing children, happy to see their mummy, she was instead greeted by the unpleasant sight of her two little darlings huddled together, greatly distressed._

_Little Magni, his heart still beating wildly, felt a surge of relief at seeing his mother and leapt up to greet her. His sister had also scrambled to her feet and, brushing past him without preamble, ran to hide behind Fulla._

_Suffice to say aunt Elvira was told in no uncertain terms to go home and their mother making a mental note of never asking her sister to babysit ever again._

_That night, she'd had her hands full with two terrified children._

_To make matters worse, her darling Magni, waking up from a nightmare – the first of many – had asked her if he was also a monster like Loki. After all, wasn't he Loki's son? And, was it true what aunt Elvira had told him? Was he really born in Jötunheim where all the horrible Frost Giants lived? That made him one of them, too, didn't it?_

_"Oh, Elvira!" Fulla silently fumed at her sister's irresponsible act. Would she ever learn?_

_That night, Ase and Magni had pattered to their parents' room and crept in the big bed, snuggling under the blankets to be close to their mother who spent a long time shushing them, wiping at their teary little faces, comforting them, reassuring them both that, no, Magni was not a monster._

_Her heart was hurting, too, but how could she tell Magni about his true father at his tender age?_

_Sven and Fulla had decided from the very moment they had accepted the care of the little boy that they would explain all about that night the tall and dark stranger had appeared on their doorstep with little Magni._

_Now, however, she felt a shiver run the length of her back as she thought more profoundly about the myths she'd grown up with; about the ancient god Loki responsible for Ragnarök and the man Loki who, one __midwinter_, had come down the Hurrungane slopes in Jotunheimen Nasjonalpark. True, the whole situation had been most confusing _at the time_. There was a thin line between fact and...myth, the young couple had found, and they had never stopped wondering if the mysterious man who'd left his infant boy - for they firmly believed he really was the father - with them was truly the Trickster God or nothing more but a simple human being...

_When Magni was finally told the true story of his joining the Solveig family, Sven and Fulla hadn't left a single thing out; not even the unease which plagued them still at times._

"Magni? Hey! Wakey-wakey!"

Magni started upright hearing his name and finding a hand waving in front of his face...and a little too close for comfort. He closed his eyes for the briefest of moments; the only outward sign of his irritation. He hated it when someone unexpectedly invaded his personal space.

However, he recovered himself fairly quickly and, giving a slight shake of his head and squeezing the bridge of his nose, he replied: "I'm sorry. I think I..."

"Oh yes indeed: you definitely weren't all there for a while." Peter laughed, patting his friend on the shoulder.

"Well, uhm..." Magni lifted the book from the table and pushed back his chair. "I'd better take it upstairs to our room. I'll be back in a jiffy, okay?"

"Oy Lokason! Game for some ping-pong when you get back down?" Richard Pemberton, another of the young tenors called after Magni.

"Sure! I'm looking forward to beating you into submission, Pemberton!" Magni replied over his shoulder in good humour.

"We'll see about that," the other boy chuckled.

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**No Loki in this chapter, but the next is only about him. :))))**


	6. Memories

_**A/N: As promised, this chapter is all Loki!  
**_

_**Thank you, **_**Ghost Rider of the Aragon**_**, **_**HowlynMad ****_and _****Bob**_** for your kind reviews. You rock!  
**_

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**Chapter 6: Memories**

**Reykjavik, Iceland**

"Hæ, Birna," Luther 'Loki' Leifson greeted his colleague jovially as he strode inside the office of the travel agency where he'd been employed at as a guide for the past couple of years.

"Coffee? You're just in time for a fresh mug. How was your group, this morning?"

"Gladly." He said, chucking off his coat, cap and gloves. "The morning city tour went very good. A very nice group, actually. They were absolutely interested and asked many questions. Quite a change from the bus load of ill behaving tourists who didn't bother to listen to half of what I said, the other day." He sneered. Oh, how he wished he could've played some spells on them to teach them a lesson.

"Don't pull such a face, Luther, it doesn't become you. You're such a handsome man if you don't do that."

He snorted at which Birna clucked her tongue.

"Besides, you know they're not all like that. You had the bad luck of being saddled with such a disinterested lot. It happens," she concluded, handing him a steaming mug of black coffee.

"I know... So, what else have you got for me?"

He walked over to his desk and booted up his computer to check the schedule for the second half of the day.

"Ah. A bunch of young bucks for the snowmobile trek this afternoon?" Aha! That might actually be some fun.

"That's right. And please make sure those 'young bucks' get through the trek without any mishaps!" She admonished him, wagging her finger.

He frowned as he printed out the forms needed for that tour. "I can't help it when some of them act like idiots by brandishing a toy hammer while riding..." Luther muttered, gritting his teeth as he remembered the episode of the young Englishman doing a Thor impression. "It wasn't my fault if the damn thing smacked him right back in his face with the result he lost control of his scooter. What's more, since when are we expected to check what they carry with them when on a tour? We're not exactly airport security, are we?"

She had to agree he had a point, there. If a young male tourist was intent on making a fool of himself, then so be it, but she'd rather nobody got hurt in the process...not even the young idiot.

"Luckily the snowmobile didn't suffer any damage."

"No," Birna agreed, "but the young bloke did end up in hospital with a broken nose!"

Luther barred his teeth in a wicked smile. "Served him right, didn't it?"

Birna rolled her eyes. "Luther, you're impossible. I wouldn't put it past you if you'd somehow orchestrated his accident. So full of mischief! But, please, do return our guests in one piece when you're done, okay?"

"Of course, my dear Lady Birna," Luther replied, executing a deep mock bow, at the same time smiling cheekily.

He checked his wristwatch. Forty minutes until the next tour and plenty of time for his lunch break. He leaned back in his chair and peeled a banana, marveling as usual at how such exotic fruits could be grown on this island. Ah the wonderful things the island's geothermal activity could do. He'd never have thought he'd actually come to love this place, one day, but he did. For starters, the climate suited him very well and he couldn't but admire the ingenuity of the inhabitants at making this harsh place surrounded by fire and ice liveable.

Luther gazed through the large windows, his eyes lingering on the city's landmark, the grand Hallgrímskirkju which oddly reminded him of his home, it's architecture reminiscent of the royal palace of Asgard. Just like the golden palace in the Realm Eternal, this house of worship was the tallest and most striking structure on the whole island and its design was inspired by the multitude of basalt formations which could be found across Iceland. The inside was reminiscent of a vast ice cave.

Not that he ever went in for worship! Worship another deity? He thought not! He'd sooner turn to Hell...

Hela.

The Christians, at the dawn of their new religion, had adopted her, changing her name into Lucifer and using her realm to instill fear into the heart of sinners. Little did they know Niffleheim or even Muspelheim would be more appropriate places for the 'Hell' they had in mind. Either way, he didn't care much for the name of Lucifer the Christians had bestowed on her (nor did he see himself as Satan, for that matter). Hela was his daughter and she was a queen in her own right; ruling her own realm of the common dead, Hel. He'd been there, visiting. It was not that there had been much love between them; how could there be? She'd been taken from him since her birth for she definitely didn't fit in with the Aesir society. Not the way she looked; half of her Aesir form and the other half Jötunn which make that side of her look like death which had stigmatized her. She had always been unwelcome on Asgard. And now, after his infamous stint in New York, he wasn't welcomed back on Asgard, either. Rumours that he was in reality a Jötunn in disguise had brought shame and scandal upon the royal family, making matters worse. It was one of the reasons why he'd been even more determined than ever to protect his son by keeping his whereabouts (not to mention his own, of course) a secret. He was feared and he had no doubts his son would be equally feared and declared potentially dangerous by that bunch of Midgardian Avengers as well as most, if not all, on Asgard and the other realms.

However, Loki had every intention of giving his boy a real life – a normal life to Midgardian standards – and if he was to spend his entire life on Midgard, then so be it.

He rested his chin in his cupped hand and stared far beyond the Hallgrímskirkju.

Would he ever see his homeland again? Would he, Loki Laufeyjarson, ever have the pleasure of showing his son the grand realm where he'd spent his youth? The capital of which its architecture was sans pareil throughout the Nine Realms?

Right after his punishment, part of which was spent healing his possessed mind, and subsequent escape to a place where he could be left alone in peace, he couldn't have believed he'd ever feel homesick. He was so sure there was nothing – nobody – left in Asgard worth missing, but lately, that had changed. He didn't only miss his son Magni, he also missed Frigg, his mother – correction: stepmother – who had shown him nothing but kindness. In a crazy way, he also missed his so-called brother, Thor: sometimes goofy, other times no so and rather brutal and irresponsible; thoughtless. Odin and Thor's friends? Not so.

He wondered, not for the first time, if they had changed much. Of course, Magni had changed. After all, he'd seen the boy grow from a baby, through early childhood to a healthy 16 year old mortal lad. And a good looking boy he was, Loki had to admit. It made his chest virtually expand with pride.

The boy didn't even know his father. He'd never set eyes upon the man who had sired him and left him with the Gylfason family.

But Loki had been very close to his son, once.

It was Magni's 10th birthday and Sverre and Fulla had given their 'twins' each a new bike. Ase and Magni and the kids who'd been invited to their birthday party had gone to play on the street. As the family was living in the residential part of Reykjavik, the street was a very quiet one with hardly any traffic. It was a fun place for kids to play outside...on the street.

But reckless as children that age could be, oblivious to any danger and not yet able to understand the rules of the road, Magni had raced his bicycle along with some other boys and had turned the corner ahead of the next boy. First, there was a screeching of tires, the ominous sounds of a collision, silence...followed by general panic once it became clear a child had been run over by a car.

And he'd known it. As part of a _light_ protection spell he'd set up, Loki had felt his son's pain as if it was his own. He had to take extreme care when casting spells, lest the others be able to track him down through the trail of magical energy he'd leave behind and would no doubt be recognized as his signature.

Arriving at the scene of the accident, he was just in time to see his small son whisked away in an ambulance.

At the hospital, he was forced to talk to Sverre and Fulla who were so kind to let him sit with his son when the boy lay in a coma which lasted for an entire week.

He'd never felt more helpless than when he was confronted with the delicate boy looking even more fragile, lying on the hospital bed, attached to monitors. The Norse god had sat beside the bed, holding one little hand in his own, looking at his boy's other arm in a cast and pale little face adorned with multiple scratches and bruises from his close encounter with the tarmac.

When Magni was close to waking up from his coma, Loki walked out, not staying around. It wasn't time, yet, but he hoped to one day actually 'meet' his son.

Suddenly, he felt a pang of anxiety. His 'mortal' son. By staying incognito on Earth, Magni was destined to grow old and...ultimately...perish. Or he might die even sooner due to an illness. Or an accident like the one he'd suffered as a 10 year old!

Eyes wide and face set in deep resolve, he sprang up from his desk chair and stalked out the door to stand on the pavement, staring unseeingly at the surrounding city.

Birna, taken by surprise by Luther's sudden actions, followed him outside and carefully laid a small hand on his shoulder which made him start.

"Luther? Are you okay?" She asked worriedly, noticing how he had tensed.

Without turning around, he tonelessly replied: "I'm fine. I'm just fine."

Birna raised an eyebrow, seeing through the blatant lie but she didn't insist. She'd learned he was prone to zone out like that and that it was best to leave him be when those moments occurred for he could build up a formidable temper if pushed. He was like fire and ice, she often thought, same as this island.

After a couple of deep and calming breaths, he slowly turned around and walked back inside, muttering an apology.

By the time he'd gathered the gear needed for the tour, the group had arrived, eager to explore the area around the Hellisheiði geothermal plant.

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Let me know your thoughts if you have any. :) Your feedback is always most welcome.


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